


home.

by Bedelia27



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-06
Updated: 2018-06-06
Packaged: 2019-05-19 03:22:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14865656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bedelia27/pseuds/Bedelia27
Summary: My breath catches in my chest when I hear his voice. He is close. I straighten my stance, every fiber of my body aware of his presence. I want to run, but my feet are chained to the floor. The lively room a low hum as the blood pounds in my ears. Adrenaline rockets through my body like an ion burst silently exploding in space. It starts in my nervous system, sending violent shockwaves deep into my bones, constricting my lungs. The inside a tumultuous war, while the outside shows a calm front. The emotional wounds begin to seep, flooding my mind. I steady myself; I raise my shields.His face slowly emerges from the sea of brass surrounding me. I feel the faintest of flickers, as the self-constructed walls of my emotional prison threaten to buckle. No, I whisper, a barely audible plea. He looks older. His once dark hair now peppered grey. Smile lines crease the corners of his eyes and lips, gently weathering his vibrant features. With each step closer, I feel the ion bursts grow stronger, the blood pounds louder. The roar in my ears becomes unbearable.“Kathryn.”“Chakotay.”





	home.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pinkpoedi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pinkpoedi/gifts).



> All characters owned by Paramount.  
> Story style inspired by Margaret Atwood.

**\---------------REDACTED---------------**

“I took the liberty of bringing you a refill. I hope you don’t mind.”

I felt his warmth behind me. His ebony eyes flickered over my body, lingering momentarily on the swell of my bottom, bringing an undeniable sense of longing. I imagined his touch, his strong hands exposing me. The absurdity of my thoughts stained my pale skin a crimson red, but a part of me wondered if he wanted me too.

I flashed a crooked smile and watched as his pupils began to dilate. This small somatic response gave me such pleasure. As Da Vinci once said, the eyes are the window to the soul. I reached out and gracefully accepted the extended glass. Champagne. A drink of good fortune and wishful beginnings.

“On the contrary, I might need two more glasses to survive Tom’s after party. Any ideas on the meaning of ‘after party?’” I smiled as I tipped the glass to my mouth. His eyes hungrily watched the liquid poor through my parted lips. I was flirting, ever so discreetly. He smiled towards me and reached his tanned muscular hand to the crook of my arm.

“I’m not sure, but if I know Tom, it’ll be a night to remember.” His voice stirred something deep inside me. An indescribable feeling that I both hungered for and despised. It had the vivaciousness of promise and hope, but a bitter edge brewed like a threatening storm. This was the part I hated. The part where he’d bring me a drink, offer his arm, and then we’d walk into the room as the powerful, dynamic command team of the USS Voyager. I would stand on his right, silently counting the moments we were joined, planning how to break the bond, so no one noticed the lingering touch between Captain and Commander.

**\---------------END REDACTION--------------**

A woman can tell a great deal from the way in which a man enters a room in her company. Justin preferred to enter a room slightly before me. Hardly noticeable to the average passerby or curious onlooker, he would lean his body forward, crossing the threshold an inch or two earlier. Such a small detail – a nearly invisible demonstration of power.

Mark was the opposite. His unwillingness to attract attention, his preference to observe rather than participate damned him to the shadows. My presence took priority, and I enjoyed the control his meekness offered. There were no surprises, no unexpected turn of events. I wielded the power and he obeyed.

Chakotay neither rushed in front nor lingered behind me. He entered the room with me, as if an extension of my body. His strong arms comfortably gripping my upper arm, his touch a welcome and familiar presence. A locus of control ebbed between our bodies. We were a united force.

I have lost a great deal in my life, but no loss devastated me more than losing him. I remember when Justin and my father died, laying around the farmhouse, drenched in grief, praying to a god – any god – that my misery would end. It dawns on me now that my prayers were a form of hope. A desperate attempt to find strength and trust in something far greater than myself. Of course, as I scientist I find this slightly absurd, but at the time, I needed a strength greater than my own to propel me back into my life. **~~[~~ Now, I am unhinged. The control I once found in myself, I carelessly shared with another who was not mine to share with, and no amount of prayers will bring that locus of control back.] REDACTED**

**\---------------------------------------------------**

  
“Vice Admiral Janeway, to what pleasure do I owe this visit?” Admiral Hayes, a fine officer but a bit of windbag sat unthreateningly behind his handcrafted oak desk. He had a subtle charm to him, and a charisma that made him a great leader in times of peril. I found myself oddly fond and envious of his buoyancy. I took careful inventory as I walked into his office. Accolades adjourned the walls, and a cluster of picture frames proudly displayed small children with chestnut hair and the admiral’s deep brown eyes. Despite the Starfleet grade sterility of the room, the office felt homey – far homier than my office.

“Admiral Hayes, thank you for agreeing to see me on such short notice. I do apologize for any inconvenience.” He gave a hearty laugh, the kind that originates deep within one’s gut. For the first time since I entered the office, I felt uncomfortable. “Oh Kathryn, please, it’s no problem at all. Now, tell me, what is it you wish to discuss?”

I am not a person who shies away from conflict. I relish in the puzzle, the daring prospect of failure, which makes victory increasingly tantalizing. “Admiral, I’ve come to offer my resignation.” With one sentence, I dropped the greatest bomb of my career. I watched his face morph from joy to confusion to anger. The precious gem stone of the federation, the crystal lattice in a perfect structure, destroyed in less than 20 seconds. Failure seemed inevitable, but somehow, I knew this was the victory I was looking for – this was freedom.

The first lessons I learned as a scientist and as an officer were to take meticulous notes, document both the interesting and the mundane, and above all else, take caution when entering uncharted territory. During my career, I claimed to heed the Prime Directive; in reality I used the Prime Directive as a shield. Adherence to protocol was a smoke in mirrors act. I said the right words, but I was a master manipulator. I wielded the Prime Directive to meet my agenda, and, damn it, I was proud of it. It took me years to admit, but I flourished in the unknown.

In the years after Voyager’s return, the Federation thought it best to place the crew and myself on a pedestal. The Dominion Wars altered the Federation at its core, shifting the focus from exploration to defense. Defense slowly turned to offense, and before long, the Federation no longer resembled the beacon of new age optimism it personified antebellum. The Voyager crew became living symbols of fortitude and persistence in a time of darkness. Some of the crew found strength in their new roles, while others faltered in the limelight. I felt confined, unfinished, tarnished.

**\---------------REDACTED---------------**

“Leave it to Tom to make a stuffy Starfleet event into the morale bosting event of a decade.” The thought of Tom singing karaoke with the Doctor made me double over in a deep laugh. Chakotay fell into step next to me. His eyes twinkled as they met mine, his laugh a rich melody. We linked arms, his fingers grazing the soft skin of my inner forearm. The gentleness of his touch sent a shiver down my spine. I lowered my eyes, bashful of my tipsiness. With his free hand, Chakotay grazed the gape of my neck, resting his fingers under my chin, gently tilting my face upwards until our eyes met. “Kathryn,” he murmured. His face moved towards mine, my eyes finding his lips. He came closer, his body pressed against mine. I felt myself falling, cascading into his embrace. “Chakotay, I…” stammering over my words, breathless, “…I…oh Chakotay,” I pushed back hitting the wall with greater force than intended. “I am sorry – I am so sorry.” The sobs caught in my throat, but the tears stung in my eyes. I pressed my right hand over my mouth, the left hand pressed against his chest. “I am sorry, I can’t do this. I am so sorry.” I walked away.

I burst through my hotel room door, crashing into the small table in the entryway. I clawed at my dress, but it stuck to me like glue. Finally, I succumbed, sliding down the wall to the floor. My knees buckling, I landed in a pile of arms and legs, sobbing. The ridiculousness of the situation hit me like an ancient scalpel slicing into my flesh. I began to laugh. Not the hearty laugh from the hallway, but a slow, mincing laugh. For years, I pushed him away. I “defined parameters.” I watched him take lover after lover, forgetting his promise to wait. “The angry warrior swore to himself that he would stay by her side, doing whatever he could to make her burden lighter. From that point on, her needs would come first.” I repeated his words into the empty space around me.

In the years after that night, I thought more carefully about New Earth and his words, turning each one over and over in my mind. Did he actually promise to wait or did he simply promise friendship? Was I so naïve as to assume his gentle touches and so-called ancient legend were declarations of something more than comradery? Decades of mental deliberation have brought me no closer to the answers I seek. When I was a child, my father took my sister and me on a camping trip. In the beginning of the trip, we came across two men gravely injured and marooned from their hiking troop. I gawked at the men, terrified but equally memorized by their raw will to survive. There is an attraction in observing threats to one’s humanity, like a crowd drawn to a fire. When I lose myself in the memories of that night, I walk daringly close to my own deadly fire.

The knock woke me from my fitful sleep. I was still dressed, leaning against the wall. My eyelids felt puffy, and mascara trails streaked my ashy face. I found a white towel and quickly yet abrasively rubbed it over my face. The cold water calmed the burn. I glanced at myself in the mirror. The mascara streaks were gone, replaced with blotchy patches. I threw the towel down and went to the door. My hand paused midair, frozen in anticipation. A voice barely audible came from the other side, “Kathryn, please open the door.”

**\---------------REDACTED---------------**

I robbed myself of peace that night. For seven years, I considered being with him. I even allowed myself to fantasize. I created a false sense of comfort in these moments, a haven untouched by reality and hidden within my thoughts. No holodeck characters would climb trees screaming my name for the crew to hear. It was safeguarded against outside curiosity and scrutiny. I pictured one of our friendly date nights turning into something more while we laughed over the latest gossip on the ship, sipping Antarian Cider. And when I was particularly lonely, I remembered those moments on New Earth. His hands running through my hair before he began gently massaging my neck. His strong arms wrapped around me under the table, shielding me from the plasma storm outside. Even in these private moments, I never allowed myself to finish the fantasy – I kept us apart.

Once something is completed, it takes a permanent shape. The words to the story are inerasably written, each comma, each period unconsciously seared into the memory of the author. To finish the fantasy meant to finish our story, and if I finished our story, I had to prepare myself for the incongruences between my safeguarded longingness and the capricious nature of reality. I was not prepared to seal our fate. I wanted to fantasize a while longer, so I let my hand hoover in midair for what seemed like hours, contemplating how our story would end.

“Kathryn, I…I can’t…I have to talk to you. I need to explain myself because you deserve an explanation, and I am…Spirits Kathryn, just open the damn door.” His voice wasn’t agitated but riddled with pain like a wounded animal. “Please, Kathryn.” He whispered one more time through the door; without answer, his body slumped against the frame, and then I heard him collect himself and walk away. I couldn’t let him go, again. I stepped into the hallway. “Commander.” I said his former rank as if we were on the bridge. He turned towards me as the turbo lift doors began to open. A look of relief crossed his face. My heart pounded as he came to me.

I looked him in the eyes, not smiling, not letting my guard down and asked: “Would you care for some tea?” His ebony eyes locked onto mine. “You are still in your dress.” “Commander, while I applaud your observational skills, I fail to see how this affects your desire for tea.” We both let a small smile escape, recognizing the audacity of the moment. A Starfleet Captain and a Starfleet Admiral running through hotel hallways, locking one another out, and calling out to each other asking for tea. Not exactly exemplary behavior. “Kathryn, when did you start drinking tea?” I led him into the room.

**\---------------REDACTED---------------**

“Oh, would you look at the time. It’s nearly 04:00.” The tea had long gone cold, but the conversation remained vibrant. He had offered to explain what happened between him and Seven, but I held my hand up for him to stop. “Let bygones be bygones,” I had said rather uncharacteristically. Truthfully, I didn’t want to know, and a part of me thought we would have more time to talk about how Voyager ended. In that moment, I only wanted to be happy.

“Kathryn, you are still in your evening gown.” He laughed, and I could tell there was no implication behind his smile. “Well, to tell you the truth, I can’t get the damn thing off. The zipper is stuck, so I decided to petition Starfleet for a change in dress uniform.” I faked an exasperated sigh that unfortunately ended in a yawn. “I should go. But, uh, before I do,” he trailed off looking into his tea cup, “I could try to pry open that zipper.” It wasn’t an invitation, but we both knew that if I said yes, I would be more than half way undressed when he left the room. And there are some parameters that once crossed can never be uncrossed. “Oh,” my words caught on my tongue, “I, um, yes, actually, that would be helpful. Thank you.” He smiled, and I thought I sensed some relief in his eyes. “Don’t thank me now. I haven’t gotten you undressed yet.” For a split second neither of us said anything, and then I fell into a full-blown fit of laughter. My rib cage stung when it was over. “Alright, that was a poor choice of words,” he laughed as his cheeks flushed, “Admiral, permission to fix the stuck zipper?” Now it was my turn to blush. “Permission granted, Captain.”

His hands started to tug against the fabric at the base of my neck. I felt the struggle between his hands and the zipper and then the release as the fabric split into two. He didn’t unzip the dress quickly, his hands lingered, following the zipper to the end of its track. When he finished, he paused with one hand still connected to the zipper and the other rested against my left shoulder. I felt him lean in and kiss the naked flesh at the base of my neck. His right hand, sliding away from the metal, under the fabric, to the base of my right hip. My breathing intensified, and I was momentarily thankful to be facing away from him. The hand on my left shoulder began to travel, tracing the ridges of my spine until it came to rest on the base of my left hip. Then, he began at the left shoulder blade, leaving a trail of fire across my upper trapezius muscle, as his mouth branded my skin.

The straps of my dress began to fall from my shoulders, and the top of the dress slowly started to descend. He didn’t push the fabric down, but he certainly didn’t attempt to stop it. His hands left my hips, easing their way up the sides of my abdomen. When they could go no further, he reached up and unpinned my hair. His face fell into the locks tumbling towards my shoulders. I felt him inhale. The dress fell to the floor. Now it was my turn. I turned around to face him. I removed both of his hands from my body. The gesture took him by surprise, and a look of rejection and remorse crossed his face. I gave him a quick wink, and slowly began to unbutton his dress shirt.

His lips found the untouched crevasses of my body. Each brush sending goosebumps down my spine, a fire rising inside of me. I heard his murmurers caressing me, but I couldn’t tear my focus from the growing longing inside of my body. Years I had dreamt of this moment in the barren confines of my mind. Each hour of each day a silent hell, as the man I loved sat mere centimeters away. With each passing minute, the centimeters turned into galaxies of impenetrable space. Now he crossed each galaxy, exploring the uncharted territory of my body. I relished in the strength of his hands, the way his eyes burned into my flesh. I felt him; I wanted him, and I knew he wanted me.

I felt his lips start to descend, searing each line, each softened wrinkle into the worn pieces of my body. I wanted to scream, to cry, to burst from the explosions that pummeled the inside of me. He slowly began to steal parts of me. I felt myself become lighter, each kiss lifting a weight from my tormented soul. It was his turn to carry me, if only for a moment.

I felt him inside of me. I felt the strength in each thrust of his hips. My eyes clenched shut, my hands griping his strong body, hanging on for dear life. I refused to let go. I came too far, I waited too long to let him slip away. He freed me from my torment. Our bodies falling silent as the galaxies that once laid before us now laid in the distant past. I found his hand on my hip, and slowly entwined my fingers into his. I couldn’t lose him. I couldn’t let him walk away, not yet.

I felt his eyes tracing my features. I felt his hand softly brush my hair from my face. I felt the weight of him against my body. I refused to open my eyes. To lose the tenderness of the moment. For now, this was enough. This was all I wanted. The tears pooled in my eyelashes, as he moved his body to cradle me. I was strong, always strong, but in this moment, I wanted to be vulnerable. His arms offered a refuge, a place to take shelter.

With him I was home.

**\---------------REDACTED---------------**

My breath catches in my chest when I hear his voice. He is close. I straighten my stance, every fiber of my body aware of his presence. I want to run, but my feet are chained to the floor. The lively room a low hum as the blood pounds in my ears. Adrenaline rockets through my body like an ion burst silently exploding in space. It starts in my nervous system, sending violent shockwaves deep into my bones, constricting my lungs. The inside a tumultuous war, while the outside shows a calm front. The emotional wounds begin to seep, flooding my mind. I steady myself; I raise my shields.

His face slowly emerges from the sea of brass surrounding me. I feel the faintest of flickers, as the self-constructed walls of my emotional prison threaten to buckle. No, I whisper, a barely audible plea. He looks older. His once dark hair now peppered grey. Smile lines crease the corners of his eyes and lips, gently weathering his vibrant features. With each step closer, I feel the ion bursts grow stronger, the blood pounds louder. The roar in my ears becomes unbearable.

“Kathryn.”

“Chakotay.”

The slightest nod of my head, and the dash of a smile across my lips. His body slips past mine, our hands grazing for the faintest moment; then he is gone. The ion bursts stop, as the woman inside me succumbs to the shackles of her prison.

Familiar faces rush past, offering well wishes and greetings. I force myself to smile but I feel myself faltering. The pain crashes over me in waves, each one stronger than the last. My mouth feels dry, and the room although large feels claustrophobic. I am walking dangerously close to the fire; I feel the heat scorching my skin. I excuse myself from the circle of Admirals surrounding me, and I head to the lady’s room.

“Aunt Kathryn?” The small voice comes from behind me, but I don’t need to turn around to know who it comes from. I stop my brisk walk, taking a deep breath, bracing myself for the image I am about to see. I knew this day would come. I prepared for this day. Now I have to face it. With the most genuine smile I can conjure I turn around.

“Why hello, Sequoia, it’s nice to finally meet you.” A dark braid with flowers crowns the top of her head, her long mahogany hair flowing around her. Her eyes are almond shaped and ebony just like her father’s. She stands in front of me beaming radiantly, excited to meet her Aunt Kathryn. Finally, she runs towards me, embracing me in a tight hug. She giggles excitedly as she pulls away. Her smile infectious, I cannot help but giggle with her. “Mommy! Mommy! Look who I found.”

My smile begins to fade as I see him walk across the room with her. She looks beautiful, as always. Her blonde hair still as striking as the day we returned. “Captain, I am sorry, Admiral Janeway, what a surprise.” She smiles but I hear the hesitation in her voice. “Anika, how good to see you. Sequoia is lovely.” I smile at the little girl who is now busing herself, twirling around the room, watching her dress flow around her. Chakotay walks forward, his eyes searching my face, but I have already receded into my rank, becoming once again Admiral Janeway. His dark eyes fill with pain. I excuse myself, retreating towards my room.

Once I am alone, I lean against the wall. Breath in. Breath out. Breath in. Breath o…“Kathryn.” His voice pierces the silence, destroying my focus. I slowly turn towards him. He stands at the end of the hallway, oddly reminding me of that faithful night. “Kathryn, I..” his voice trails off. “Chakotay, there is nothing left to say.” I turn my back to him, walking away once more. A hand grabs my arm, stopping me midstride.

“I have more to say.” His eyes search mine, looking for acknowledgement or consent. I offer none. “I know I hurt you, but I swear I didn’t know she was pregnant that night. And, I should have told you in person instead of leaving a comm message. I…” He stops, tears pool in his eyes but don’t escape down his cheeks. “I couldn’t face you. If I did, I would not have gone back to Sev—Anika, and that wasn’t the man or the father I wanted to be. Kathryn, please, I need you to know that I lov—“

“Stop.” My voice lashes out at him. It sounds harsh, cold, and I see him flinch as it cuts his declaration short. “Chakotay, what do you aim to prove? Do you want me to tell you it’s O.K., that I forgive you? To console you so that you no longer have to carry this burden? If so, you should walk away now. All you had to do that night was leave. I would have let you leave, but you…you…damn it, Chakotay…,” the tears creep into my eyes, and I hear my voice start to break. Taking a deep breath, I prepare for goodbye.

“I spent seven years fighting every day so that my crew could live their lives with the ones they love. I deprived myself of affection so nothing could possibly distract me from my mission. I’ll be the first one to admit I did not adjust as well to Earth as many of the crew, but, Chakotay, reaching the Alpha Quadrant meant everything I worked for had come to an end. I was alone in the Delta Quadrant by choice, but in the Alpha Quadrant, I was alone by default. Maybe I didn’t make my feelings clear on Voyager, but I certainly did that night. You asked me to lower my shields, and I did – I did for you. Then, you walked away to raise your daughter, and, no, I cannot fault you for being a father. We don’t pick the obstacles life throws at us, but to not say goodbye…” I can’t stop the tears, and that makes me angrier. “You left me alone, without an explanation, allowing me to assume the worst of myself.” I want to continue, but the wounds are too raw. “I thought it was my chance, Chakotay. I thought it was finally my chance. So, please, stop.”

His hand loosens its grasp on my arm. I wipe my eyes in a desperate attempt to make myself decent, but I don’t dare look at him. Then he whispers, “Kathryn, I am so sorry. I—””Daddy!” The squeal comes from behind him. Sequoia is running towards us at full speed, Anika trailing behind. “Goodbye, Chakotay.” His face crumbles, as I leave for the last time.

**\---------------------------------------------------**

The concept of home is fickle. For nearly a decade my mission in life was to get my crew home, no matter the cost. Somewhere, along this journey, we’ll find a way back. Mr. Paris, set a course for home. I did not rest until I achieved my mission, and yet I find myself wondering, if I lost myself somewhere out in the unknown. Maybe I am more like the Caretaker than I thought, repaying a debt that can never be repaid to my crew. He once told me:

We’re explores from another galaxy but we had no idea that our technology would be so destructive…two of us were chosen to stay behind and care for them…she went off to look for more interesting places…I’ve been searching for a compatible biomolecular pattern.

Were we not explorers from another galaxy unaware of the repercussions our presence would cause on the quadrant? I chose Chakotay and myself to guide our crew home; the two of us were chosen, by me, to stay behind and care for the crew. And now, I am searching for my compatible part, or rather the part I lost somewhere along the way.

My decision to leave the Federation was rather simple. I was not happy, so, I left. I took some time off to recollect my thoughts, travelling to a colony on the outskirts of the Alpha Quadrant – the closest Federation colony to the Delta Quadrant. The closer I traveled to the border, the more I felt at ease. The place I spent nearly a decade attempting to leave, I yearned for more than I yearned for the place I once called home. It now occurs to me that I found what I was looking for in the Delta Quadrant. I made a home on Voyager, [and I promised myself that one day I would let myself love him] REDACTED. On Voyager, I had hope; just like the hope I had when I prayed to God after Justin and my father died. A light among the darkness guiding me back home.

When I stare out the window of my small flat on the colony, I am reminded of the sacrifices I made to repay my debt to the crew, and a small glimmer of hope returns. Not a hope of finding him or of finding home, but a hope that one day I will settle. I will find a peace within myself that no person can steal. I feel that peace slowly coming, my mind accepting the truths of my universe, but I am taking my time. I am not ready to settle just yet. There are a few missing pieces, and I need that spark of animosity to propel myself back into the fire. Perhaps that is why I accepted Admiral Hayes’ invitation to command the first deep space station in the Delta Quadrant. The first small step back into the fire.

**Afterward:**

The above text excerpts come from the late Honorary Admiral Kathryn Janeway’s personal log. These entries have been redacted to maintain the Admiral’s privacy and to prevent the disclosure of classified information. The Honorable Admiral died shortly after taking command of Delta Quadrant Deep Space Station 12. Many details of the attack are still unknown, and of the 240 souls aboard DS 12, only 15 survived. Many people believe the Borg were behind the attack; however, little evidence supports this theory. Others believe the attack originated from within the Space Station, as an attack against the Federation. The later theory seems more feasible, due to the deep rifts in the Federation following the Dominion Wars.  
Despite the dearth of information surviving the attack, the Federation Investigation Bureau (FIB) do know that Admiral Janeway initiated self-destruct of the station, ordered all personnel to the escape pods, and transmitted as much data from the computers as possible to Starfleet Headquarters. Among the information transmitted were the crew’s personal logs. Unfortunately, the transmission was compromised once the Space Station self-destructed, and information on the unknown attacker was not transmitted. The 15 surviving crewmen offered little insight, as their stories differed considerably. The FIB assumes the 15 survivors were the masterminds behind the attack, but a lack of evidence has prevented a legal trial.

As most readers have noticed, the log entries alternate between present and past tense. The timeline of entries is correct according to the date in which each was recorded; nonetheless, the Admiral did not recount the events in the order that they occurred. At the time in which the entries were recorded, the Admiral had reentered the Federation following her untimely departure four years prior. She mentions this briefly in the third entry when she describes her resignation to Admiral Hayes. Since this was a self-resignation, the Federation promoted her to Admiral, as a means to honor her extraordinary career and pay tribute to her sacrifices. Upon her death, the Federation gave the Admiral full honors, bestowing her the highly-regarded title of “Honorary,” which is preserved for only the most dignified and heroic officers.

The reasons preceding Honorary Admiral Janeway’s departure from Starfleet are relatively unknown. The Admiral was notoriously private, and although a select few were privy to the reasons surrounding the decision, all of these individuals have upheld their promise to maintain the Admiral’s confidence. Nearly fifteen years following the Admiral’s death, Captain Chakotay, former first officer to then Captain Janeway, died peacefully at his home in Arizona. Sometime after his death, his daughter, Sequoia, published a memoir written by the late Captain. The memoir describes a forbidden love affair between Chakotay and an unnamed woman. Many believe this woman to be Honorary Admiral Janeway. It is also assumed that the end of the relationship occurred around the time she offered her resignation.

While her career was anything less than ordinary, her personal life suffered a great deal from her commitment to duty. Janeway never married, although she was engaged twice. Her first fiancé, Justin Tigh, died shortly after their engagement in an accident that also claimed the life of her father, Admiral Edward Janeway. Her second engagement to Mark Johnson ended after Voyager’s disappearance. Supporting the suspicions developed from Captain Chakotay’s memoir, some members of the Voyager crew have indicated a romantic courtship between then Captain Janeway and Commander Chakotay. If this relationship did indeed exist, the redacted portions of these journal entries may shed light on the theorized relationship. Only time will tell if these entries will be released to the public.

Honorary Admiral Kathryn Janeway served valiantly and humbly. She was a pioneer for woman in the Federation, gaining recognition as the first Captain to lead a Starship without Federation support for 7 years in an uncharted region of space; as the first female Admiral to receive the title of Honorary; and as the first female to command a Deep Space station. Her death was a great travesty to the Federation. Rest in Peace, Honorable Admiral Janeway.


End file.
